This is the Story of a Boy Prt I: I Am Not in Need
by 3Boys
Summary: As junior year comes to an end, Noah Puckerman tries to do the right thing, while still pushing aside everything he doesn't want to think about.
1. Chapter 1

This is part of a series known as "Story of Three Boys," or SoTB. The first five parts, collectively, are _This is the Story of a Boy_, or TitSoaB. This is eventually a Puck/Kurt story, with liberal doses of Finn. This was written to be in line with canon through 2x22, "New York."

We don't own Glee.

Series Summary: This is the story of a boy; this is the story of three boys. Two brothers, two best friends, two lovers.

Summary for This is the Story of a Boy, Part I: I Am Not In Need: As junior year comes to an end, Noah Puckerman tries to do the rightthing, while still pushing aside everything he doesn't want to think about.

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><p><span>Part I, Chapter i<span>

"Noah?"

Puck looks up from the paper he's absently writing on. "Yeah?"

His mom steps into the room. "I need you to do me a favor."

Puck stands up, starting to reach for his wallet and keys, when his mom holds up her hand. "No, no, not an errand."

"Oh." Puck shrugs and sits back down. "What is it?"

"Your friend Rachel, from the glee club." She pauses and Puck gives her a weird look. "Her fathers are out of town for over a week, and I just–obviously they must trust her, to leave her alone." She forces out a fake-sounding laugh. "Goodness knows I couldn't leave you here, especially not and expect you to take care of Hannah." She plasters her smile on her face. "I just wondered if you'd look out for her? Maybe take some of your friends over to her place this weekend? Her fathers won't be back until late _next_ week."

Puck sighs. It's not that he dislikes Rachel; he doesn't. He doesn't necessarily like her, either; she's like an annoying cousin, someone that you tolerate and even watch out for, but who isn't necessarily your friend. Still. Saturday night out without his mom grumbling? It wasn't an opportunity Puck was going to pass up.

Rachel nearly blew the entire thing before it started. He doesn't know exactly what changed her mind in the fifteen minutes between he proposed the party and when she chases after him babbling about Carole King, but Puck's pretty sure that, knowing Rachel, it was either some kind of celebrity thing or Finn Hudson.

Since Finn walked into the choir room as Puck was leaving, Puck's putting his money on Finn.

Rachel wasn't entirely wrong. He does enjoy a party. Getting drunk and having sex (or, hell, making out, even) is a good way to take the edge off. It's a good way to relax at the end of the week, to ease the itch under his skin. Plus, it's expected. It's what someone like Puck _does_. And, yeah, maybe sometimes he doesn't get as drunk as everyone else, or as drunk as everyone else thinks he is.

It's a good way to make sure you don't do something really stupid, something that would get you beat up or worse. Puck's never put a finger on what exactly he thinks might happen if he lost his inhibitions and filters completely, but he can't remember a time when he wasn't a little worried about it. He's pretty sure it was before middle school. Middle school was when everything started sorting out, everyone fell into their appointed roles, and even if everything took two or three weeks to shake out at the beginning of freshmen year, when the three middle schools learned to coexist as one freshman class, well. Most of the roles stayed the same, it was just a bigger heap, and Puck had been determined to be at the top of the heap.

He hadn't been at the top of the heap for awhile now, though, and even though common sense should've told him to walk away from the glee club the first time a slushie hit his face… well. It was like Santana had said, back at their first competition.

Glee club was the best part of his day. And a party with just the twelve of them in glee club did actually sound fun. Especially if he wasn't really all that drunk. Hell, maybe Lauren would be a needy drunk or a clingy drunk or even better, like Brittany, ready to strip.

Come to think of it, he should tell Artie about his girlfriend's tendency to strip when drunk. Artie might not want to drink as much as everyone else, either.

Finn and Kurt aren't drinking at all, which makes four of them that are clearly more sober than the others. Puck and Artie are definitely having more fun than either of the Hudmel bros. Kurt looks like he can't decide if he should barf or cry. Puck thinks maybe a combination of the two would be appropriate, because it's really sad that he finds the short guy so attractive, and really disgusting to watch the shortest dude Puck's ever met singing with a really short girl.

And isn't this dude supposed to be gay?

Finn looks just as miserable with Rachel up there singing to someone else as he did when she was draped all over him.

Puck's pretty stoked that he didn't get as drunk as the others, because on Monday, he's functional and does not have a splitting headache. A headache, yeah, but he drunk two bottles of water as soon as he got home on Saturday night and took some ibuprofen when he woke up the next morning. He's not stupid, no matter what the others may think.

Even better is the look on Mr. Schuester's face when he comes up with the line about the commercials during NASCAR being for beer. Puck smirks inwardly. Yeah, he had a great time at the party, just a little buzzed, and he gets the added fun of watching his friends be stupidly drunk and then hungover.

The only problem is the matter of the Misters Berry's liquor cabinet. The one that he promised Rachel he'd restock before they arrived back home. Now it's Wednesday night and Puck is panicking.

Most of it is easy to replace. His mom probably won't notice if he takes a bottle or two of whiskey or vodka to restock the Berry's. Puck is able to score a few bottles of hard liquor just by hanging around outside the liquor stores for a few hours. The rest of it, though, he buys, and he winces as he hands over the last bills along with his fake ID.

It's easy to let everyone think that his pool cleaning went to paying for a vasectomy. Puck mentally snorts. As if. No, he's learned several lessons in the last few years, but the bills he is spending are the last of his summer earnings. He won't get more until at least the end of May.

It's not even the end of February.

A week later, Finn calls, suggesting they join Sam, Mike, and Artie at the movie theatre. Puck winces and says he'll call Finn back, then opens his wallet forlornly.

His mom works hard, but she's still paid for secretarial work at a small law firm in a tiny town in Ohio, so most of what she earns is spent on rent and other bills. Once a week, on her pay day, she hands Hannah a five dollar bill and Puck a ten dollar bill. That's their money for the week.

Needless to say, Puck packs a lunch most days.

Once, she did give Puck more money, but then she found out about the slushies. Then there was Quinn and Beth, and finally the stint in juvie, even if she did appreciate him taking the offered sentence instead of fighting it in court, which would've cost money they didn't have.

So Puck gets ten dollars a week, and he made his pool cleaning money last for awhile, but now it's not quite March, and Finn wants to go see a movie, and he's got three bucks.

He's staring at his wallet, as if he can magically make more money appear, when Hannah walks in the room. "What's wrong, Noah?"

"Nothing, squirt," Puck sighs. "Just wishing I had enough money to go to see a movie."

"Can't you go to the ATM like Mom does? Put your card in and get more?"

Puck rolls his eyes. "First of all, I know you know that you have to have money in your bank account before that can work. Second of all, I don't have a bank account or a card, so how could I?"

"Why not?" Hannah asks, and she sounds as if it's a perfectly reasonable question. "You're seventeen! I thought all seventeen year olds had bank accounts."

Puck frowns and glares at her. "Whatever." He stands up, grabbing his phone. "I'm gonna go to my room." He stalks down the hall and closes the door with a little too much force, then flops onto his bed. He sends Finn a quick text message.

_No can do movie tonight. Plans_

Finn doesn't need to know that Puck's plans include the Chinese take-out his mom is bringing home, calling his Nana on the phone, and playing on his guitar before goofing off online.

No one really needs to know that Noah Puckerman is broke.

* * *

><p>"Babies don't get dropped off."<p>

Puck feels kind of dumb to point that out, but it's not like something he can forget. Quinn seems all too willing to forget, reducing her sophomore year to lost abs and stretch marks. Puck walks around with a little hole, a Beth-shaped hole, and it doesn't get any smaller. Sometimes he thinks it's getting bigger, just like she is.

Puck gets home from school and checks his email, still thinking about how Brittany could have lived through the last year and a half with them and still not understand that babies are not dropped off by the stork.

His inbox has one of Shelby's irregularly-timed missives, a somewhat lengthy update followed by inquiries into himself, and five pictures as attachments. The pictures are, as always, the best part and the worst part. The best, because he can actually see his little girl, his Beth, see that she's growing and healthy and happy. The worst, because he's reminded of just exactly what he signed away, what he gave up. Because he's reminded that he's a father, that he has a daughter.

So, really, is it his fault that he doesn't quite understand what his girl means at first the next day? He likes the way Lauren looks out for him. Sometimes she's bitchy and condescending, but it's not the same way as girls like Quinn or even Rachel. She hands him his backpack, gets him to class on time, and reminds him regularly that it's possible to leave Lima behind.

She's never called him a Lima loser.

And, yeah, Puck'd rather be making a sex tape with his girl because she wants to have sex with him, not because she wants to be famous, but Puck's tired of 'variety' meaning using his left hand in the shower versus his right hand in bed. He _is_ a little dazed at the thought of having sex with Lauren, having sex with someone that he really gives a damn about, and has given a damn about for more than thirty minutes or so before they get naked.

The sex tape that Lauren shows him isn't particularly exciting. The way they've made it is interesting, with all the stupid editing, and he really does think the sheets are awesome, which probably means he paid too much attention during his stint at minimum-wage employment at Sheet 'N Things.

Ms. Holiday's news about what making a sex tape could mean for him, though, sends him into a tailspin. There was a good reason he freaked out in Figgins' office: he can't survive another trip to juvie.

Half an hour on Google leaves him wide-eyed and losing his dinner in the bathroom, which really pisses him off, because his mom made one of her awesome casseroles for dinner and there weren't many leftovers. Child pornography wouldn't land him in juvie again; it'd be on his record forever.

Forever.

A little more time spent reading about sex offenders and registries and Puck's back in the bathroom, puking up the ice cream he ate to replace the casserole. Hannah hears him and goes to get his mom.

His mom wants to know what's wrong, because she's known for years that Puck's a stress puker, but he doesn't answer, just shakes his head and tries to ignore the fact that he's crying.

Puck doesn't go to school the next day. He crawls into his bed and alternates sobbing and puking throughout the morning. He's kind of hated some of the things he used to do. Artie's a pretty cool dude, and he locked him in a port-a-toilet once. He hangs out with Kurt sometimes now, when he goes to play video games or watch movies with Finn, and he can't believe he used to throw Kurt in a dumpster. A _dumpster_. What the hell was he thinking? Seriously. _What was he thinking?_

What was he thinking when he took Quinn seriously when she said yes, even though he knew she'd drunk two wine coolers in rapid succession? Hell, what was he thinking, propositioning his best friend's girl, anyway?

What was he thinking when he stole the bake sale money?

What was he thinking when he said good-bye to his baby girl?

What was he thinking when he sat outside the convenience store and put the car into drive?

What was he thinking when he let them think that he was trying to steal the ATM, and let them send him to juvie? What was he thinking trying to cry for help in a way that would have cost his mom a ton of money if he hadn't taken the criminal charges?

Had he ever been thinking?

He stops crying around noon and eats the leftover casserole and the leftover ice cream, and keeps them down. He goes through his room with a trash bag and a box, and takes the trash bag to the dumpster before he can think about it. He sits down at the computer and deletes half of his bookmarks. When his mom gets home, she hands him his weekly ten dollar bill and he asks if he can take the car to Wal-Mart.

He spends five dollars and eighty-four cents at Wal-Mart. He doesn't want to head home just yet, so he parks the car at the apartment building and walks through town slowly. He walks into Starbucks and spends another three dollars on coffee. The older woman behind the counter smiles kindly at him and reaches for a cup a size larger than he pays for.

"Oh, uh, I only ordered a tall, ma'am."

She stops and cocks her head, taking him in. "You ever thought about working here?"

"Uh. No? I mean. Not specifically?" he tries again, confused.

She sets the cup back on the stack and picks up the tall. "My last three employees either quit with no notice or were stealing. I've been trying that trick with every single teenager to walk in the door today. You're the only one that corrected me."

"Oh." Puck shrugs. "Just didn't seem right."

"You tell your mama she raised you good."

Puck can't help but smile sadly. He doesn't think that his mom would agree with that assessment at all.

"Here." The woman hands Puck his cup, a straw, and a piece of paper. "It's an application. You think about it. What's your name?"

"Puck. Uh. Noah Puckerman."

"Nice to meet you. Think about bringing that back, okay?"

Puck nods, knowing he'll probably crumple it up and toss it in the trash. He may not be a liar, but that doesn't mean he's honorable or whatever else this lady is thinking. It doesn't mean he'd be a good employee.

It doesn't mean he's worth taking a chance on.

* * *

><p>Puck finds his feet taking him to Celibacy Club the next day. First things first: his dick hasn't really been his friend. First there was the whole Quinn situation. Then there's the sex tape potential arrest. He wants Lauren, but maybe Ms. Pillsbury will have some ideas for him.<p>

Of course, he quickly realizes that when it comes to sex, Ms. P is not a good choice for counseling. She might be good at other counseling, but not sex. He hides everything behind his mask, just like he's been doing for years, really, and doesn't even flinch at Quinn's comments.

He can't resist the comment about three chicks in his bedroom, even though the last time there were three girls in his bedroom, Quinn was pregnant with Beth, and Puck was banished to the couch. Quinn invited some friends over and he left the house. Now a typical Saturday night is trying to convince Lauren to go out on a date, which inevitably fails, especially since he can't afford anything.

He's pretty sure "Afternoon Delight" is about sex, not a dessert, but hey. He tells himself he's gonna change, that he's not gonna just worry about the mask, not entirely, and standing up in front of his friends wearing white pants and an awful turquoise shirt with a neckerchief? Well, seriously, who plans costumes like that?

When he gets home that afternoon, he picks up his phone and stares at it. One more thing, and it should probably be in person, but it's the price they've all had to pay. He double-checked Finn's phone during English to make sure he had the right number, and his finger hovers over the "OK" button.

He gets distracted thinking about how much he hates his phone, because he's wanted an iPhone for years and now almost everyone has one, or a Droid, or something awesome, and he's stuck with a basic plan with limited texting, because it's what his mom can afford. His mind drifts to the application that, against all odds, isn't yet in the trash, but is sitting on his desk.

He's good at mixing things. It's why he started the pool cleaning business, and it's why he had some money from it most of the year, because after Beth was born, he couldn't face going back to basically prostituting himself out. He was someone's _dad_, even if she wasn't _his_ daughter anymore, and after the first day, he puked in the rosebushes and started calling the husbands to make appointments, doing most of his cleaning in the evenings and on the weekends, which meant his mom had to pay less for Hannah's day camp, at least.

Mixing coffee drinks can't be that different from mixing pool chemicals, right? Except that coffee is drinkable.

He shakes himself. Fuck. Distracted. He finally hits okay, and listens to the phone ring, wondering if voicemail would be better or worse.

"Hello?"

Definitely would have been better. His voice is tentative, like he doesn't recognize the number, and Puck supposes he probably doesn't.

"Kurt? It's Puck."

"Oh. Puck. Hello." Kurt sounds surprised, and Puck can't blame him for that, really. "Did Finn let his phone die again?"

"No. Uh, I mean, I dunno. I was calling to um. Talk to you."

"Oh." Now Kurt sounds even more surprised, and a little wary. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, uh. Listen, I probably should have done this in person or something, but you're over at preppyland now and all, and just." Puck frowns. "I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. For all the shit I pulled last year, and freshman year, and even what I said back in the fall about going to spy on the other schools, because that was sucky of me and I don't know what I was thinking. Which apparently I do that a lot, do things where I don't know what I was thinking."

Puck's rambling and he can't understand why he's telling Kurt so much. Maybe because Kurt's _not_ at McKinley anymore, and he can't picture Kurt running to gossip with Finn.

"Puck…" Kurt's voice is gentle. "I forgave you for all of that. A _long_ time ago. Do you really think I would sit and watch movies with you and Finn otherwise? Or anything else?"

Puck thinks for a minute, silent, then nods before remembering the other boy can't see him. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess. But I needed to say it."

"In that case, apology accepted." Kurt falls quiet for a moment, and Puck can hear another voice in the background before Kurt speaks again. "I'm sorry, I have to go, my dad needs me downstairs. I'll see you at Regionals, okay? If you're not over here before then."

"Okay. Yeah. Thanks, dude."

"You're welcome." Kurt's voice is still amused, but Puck thinks it's sincere, and he feels a little better when he hits end.

When Lauren confronts him the next day about Celibacy Club, he manages to stumble through an explanation. He _does_ think he's a loser; he just hopes he's not a _Lima_ loser.

Lauren seems to like the explanation, though, and when they walk out of the Celibacy Club meeting, she curls her fingers through his and asks if he can demonstrate his abilities with hickeys.

When Puck gets home that evening, he picks up a pen and the crumpled application, and starts to write.

_Name: Noah Puckerman_


	2. Chapter 2

A playlist for this entire work can be found at http www (dot) youtube (dot) com (slash)playlist?list=PL4DF9D0F1901A6394

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><p>Part I, Chapter ii<p>

Sometimes, Puck is still surprised by the depths Coach Sylvester will stoop to. They had a perfectly great song for Regionals, something that was definitely an anthem, one that Puck thought gave them an excellent chance at _winning_. Of going to Nationals in New York City.

And Sylvester has to fuck that up?

It pisses Puck off, maybe especially because there's not a damn thing any of them, even Mr. Schuester, can do to change it. They can't stop her now, and they can't stop her in the future. She is always going to be trying to ruin them. Always throwing a monkey wrench in their plans, in their hopes. And none of them can _fix_ it and it makes Puck want to punch something.

Actually, it makes him want to punch _her_, but he's plenty aware that that would be a really stupid idea. Knowing Sue Sylvester, he'd end up in jail. Which is exactly where he never, ever intends to be again, so he just glowers a bit and folds his arms across his chest.

When Rachel mentions writing original songs, he doesn't say anything. Most of the club seems to think it's a stupid idea, but Puck thinks it could be fun. Okay, he knows that writing the music is fun; lyrics, probably not so much, for him, but there are twelve of them, after all, so they will no doubt manage.

Most of the others raise their hands to not do original songs, and Puck wonders briefly if he's gonna have to stick up for Rachel's idea this time. Then Quinn speaks up in support of it, and yeah, that's weird. He narrows his eyes in her direction a little. She looks perfectly innocent, but Puck of all people should know what lies beneath_ that_ facade_. _

Finn gets behind the idea, then, and rapidly, opinion in the room shifts towards writing original songs. Okay. Puck suppresses a smile. His abilities as a lyricist are not exactly stellar and he's not going to pretend otherwise, but he's kind of hoping he can come up with something decent, because his music is pretty good.

Plus, he'd kinda like to make it up to Lauren for when he sang "Fat Bottomed Girls" since clearly that didn't go over very well. He'd thought it was kind of awesome, but since she didn't, he owes her one. And he wasn't lying, he kind of digs trying to woo her, and music's one of the best things he's got going for him.

Especially since he hasn't decided what to do about the application still on his desk, which means he's still essentially broke. No one realizes how much he's mooching, because he's careful not to do it in an obvious way.

The day Brittany pays for his coffee, though, he feels like scum.

The thing is, he's spent awhile looking up stuff online about working at Starbucks. There are horror stories, of course, because there are those about anywhere, he figures. Hell, he posted his own (mostly made-up) horror story about Sheets 'N Things. There's a lot about how great the benefits are, though, and how someone can work just twenty hours and qualify, and Puck figures he doesn't need most of this stuff, like insurance, but then somewhere he finds a reference to a discount on cell phone service, and after that he lets himself linger for a moment over the information about tuition reimbursement.

The truth is, this offer that fell into his lap seems a little too good to be true. A little too awesome. A little too much for someone like him.

* * *

><p>Puck's distracted while he chops up the onion and tomato for the hamburgers his mom is fixing. Hannah's opening a can of some kind of beans; it's Monday night at the Puckerman apartment, which means everyone's present, accounted for, <em>and<em> helping cook. Puck almost cuts his finger while he's slicing the onion and swears under his breath, earning a look from his mom.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"Are you all right, Noah?"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine." Puck sighs and pulls a second tomato towards him. "Just thinking."

"How was school today?"

Puck shrugs. "All right. Everyone in glee club's all crazy because of Regionals."

"Oh? What songs are you doing?"

"Yeah, that'd be why everyone's going crazy," Puck explains. "We had an awesome song picked out, but we got this letter that says we can't do it, so now we're writing original songs."

"Oh." His mom flips the hamburger patties. "Well. Is everyone working on their own songs, or are you working as a group?"

"Both, I think."

His mom's voice is cautious when she continues. "Are you working on a song?"

"I'm not much of a lyricist. You've seen my English grades," he adds with a grimace that's trying to be a smile.

"But you write songs. The music, I mean. You write songs." There's a lilt at the end, making the sentence half-question and half-statement.

Puck puts the knife down, stacking the tomato slices on a plate without looking up, and waits a few beats. "I write songs," he confirms after a moment, almost mumbling, and then raises his head and nods. "Yeah, I write songs." It's a little easier to sound confident the second time.

His mom just pats him on the shoulder for a moment. "I'm sure you have something that's perfect."

Puck blinks, surprised by her unexpected show of support. "Uh. Thanks, Mom."

She opens her mouth to respond but Hannah interjects, "Mom! The beans are ready!" and the moment is lost.

Puck spends the time he should be spending on his homework trying to write lyrics for the song he chose. The song's a fun one, with a catchy beat, and he's hoping it can help gloss over the inadequacy of his lyrics. When he makes a rhyme with 'rickets' and 'tickets,' he knows it's sort of hopeless, but he continues through to the end, trying to express himself in words. It's not a talent that he has.

"Noah? It's almost Hannah's bedtime, so…" his mom gestures at his guitar.

"Oh, right, yeah, sorry," Puck nods.

"It's a nice tune," she offers with a smile. "How… how many do you have?"

Puck gestures to the three binders he bought at Wal-Mart the week before, the binders he's stuffed with the contents of the box he filled as he cleaned up his room. "That many."

"Those… those are full?"

Puck shrugs uncomfortably. "They're just… always there. Struggling to get out and on paper. When I'm asleep, when I'm in class, when I'm playing football. Always." One of his English teachers talked once about writers who were compelled to write, people who couldn't stop the words from pouring from their brain onto paper or computer screen.

That's how Puck feels about the music. It's under his skin, always bubbling. One of the many things that leads him to feel like he's itching and searching. He doesn't really have a choice; he's merely the conduit.

"Oh." She nods. "Okay. Well, good night, Noah."

"'Night, Mom."

Puck's right; the song is a perfect one, and in the end, it gets higher praise from Mr. Schue than any other individual effort. His lyrics are the weak point, Puck knows that, but Lauren seems to dig them, even the awful rickets line. She's smiling and keeping the beat along with most of the others, and Puck feels a little rush in his chest.

Pride.

For the first time in a while, Puck's actually kind of proud of himself. He wasn't just deluding himself; his music is, if not stunning, at least enjoyable. Lauren drives him home after school and even agrees to come up for a pop, though not without a ten minute lecture on what is and is not acceptable behavior on his part, followed by a threat to castrate him if his hand so much as brushes against her breast.

On the plus side, once they're in his living room and he's sitting stiffly in the chair, she walks across the room to him and kisses him hard. She makes out with him (and, really, there's no other way to put it, since she's not letting him be a very active participant) for five or ten minutes, and then smirks as she sits back down on the couch.

"You're not completely hopeless," she says, taking a drink of her pop. "Your song was cute. Strange, but cute, and I liked the tune."

"Yeah?" Puck asks hopefully, because damn. Being recognized for something he's done is kind of addictive.

"Stop fishing for compliments, Puckerman, you know it was good."

Puck just rolls his eyes. Even Lauren doesn't really get him, sometimes.

She leaves soon after that, claiming that she can't stay too long or he'll start making faulty assumptions. Whatever that's supposed to mean. Puck pulls out the frozen lasagna from the freezer and preheats the oven, then opens up the bag of salad. Hannah and his mom'll be home before too long, and Puck… well, Puck _tries_ to be a good son and a good brother. He feels like he's mostly failed at both of those, but at least he can make dinner a night or two a week, even if it is just reheating frozen stuff and getting salad dressing from the refrigerator to the table.

After dinner, Puck's mom calls him back into the living room, and he leaves Hannah to finish drying the dishes on her own. "Yeah?"

"Here." Rina hands him a plain brown paper bag, one of the really thin kind, like you get at a drugstore or bookstore or something.

Puck quirks an eyebrow at her.

"Go on, it won't explode," she huffs with a slight grin.

"Okay, okay," Puck tilts the bag and a thin spiral-bound book falls out. His eyes cloud in confusion before he turns it over and reads the front. Oh. _Oh_. He's pretty sure his eyes have widened and he looks up at his mom kind of dumbly.

"It seems like you shouldn't have to draw those lines–"

"The staff?"

"Yes, the staff. You shouldn't have to draw that every time. The man at the shop said this was good for everything, because the left-hand pages are." She frowns, pausing. "Tab?"

"Tablature."

"Yes, and the staff on the right-hand side."

Puck bites his lip and looks down for a minute, then gives her a big hug. "Thanks, Mom."

He can feel her surprise before she responds, bringing her arms up to return the embrace. "You're welcome, Noah." She pulls back and smiles, and he returns the smile.

"I'm just going to, uh," he holds the notebook up a little.

"Go," she says. "Shoo! Just remember Hannah has to go to sleep by 8:30."

"Yeah, okay," Puck tosses over his shoulder, already halfway across the room, headed towards his bedroom door. He sits down heavily at his desk, intent on starting to fill the book in front of him. He makes a mental note of the price tag on the front. $8. At the rate he's been going lately, he's going to need a new one every month or so. He casts the application another look and then disregards it, scribbling out the chords and notes that came into his head during lunch that day.

After Hannah goes to bed, he opens a drawer in his desk and slowly pulls out the book inside it. This week is Regionals; the next weekend, he's supposed to take the SAT. He's not sure why he wandered into Ms. Pillsbury's office and filled out the paperwork, but his mom was happy to pay the registration fee when Ms. Pillsbury called her about it. Then Puck felt bad about his mom spending the money, so he asked Ms. Pillsbury for a book or something to get ready for it.

He's not looked at it all that much. The math is easy. He doesn't go to math class usually, no, but that's because math's pretty straightforward. Someone, maybe Kurt or Rachel or even Quinn, once made a comment about math and music supposedly being linked. Maybe it was Kurt, because he's pretty bad at math, for all that he can sing. Anyway, Puck believes it, because they're both orderly and uncomplicated. The other stuff is complicated and he doesn't know how well he's going to manage, which is why he sighs and turns to the pages about "critical reading" for the next thirty minutes.

He just hopes his mom doesn't hate him too much for wasting her money.

* * *

><p>He plays some music on his computer while he gets ready for school the next morning, and counts it as a good day when some of his favorite songs come on in rapid succession. He tucks his new notebook in his backpack carefully and heads to school, reminding his mom that he has glee club after school again, as they work towards Saturday.<p>

When Schue asks what their favorite songs are, Puck's answer is on the tip of his tongue, because he heard it just before school that morning. "What's Going On, Marvin Gaye." Lauren's nod of approval is just the icing on the cake as far as Puck's concerned.

They start writing their lyrics, drawing on their loser status at McKinley, and Puck stays mostly silent, listening to their word and rhythm choices. After about fifteen minutes, an idea occurs to him, and he scribbles it on notebook paper, not wanting to call attention to himself. Once everyone's left, he ducks into the library (because, really, no one is going to look for him there, of all places), and transcribes it onto the staff and tablature. He charms a few free copies from the librarian, and leaves them in a stack on the piano in the choir room, writing the melody line on the staff lines on the whiteboard. Just because he doesn't trust the rest of the club to figure it out, he adds the title of their song, using his left hand. He doesn't want anyone to guess that the music is his. If they use it, that's gonna be sweet, and if they don't, he doesn't want any fake sympathy.

There's speculation about the writer of the music when everyone filters in the next afternoon, but the consensus develops that maybe it was Brad, who just sits and smiles, enigmatic as always. The point is, in Puck's mind, the music _works_. It fits with the lyrics with just a few adjustments, and it's got a good beat. It's easy for Brittany and Mike to develop choreography to go with it, and it doesn't require anyone to strain their vocal range.

Puck walks home on Thursday and Friday both with a shit-eating grin, because he knows he did _good_. His mom comments on his good mood, and he even sits through a game of Clue with his sister and mom on Friday night. He's saving his ten dollars this week, because _when_ they win Regionals, he knows there's going to be pizza or ice cream or something.

Puck's suddenly grateful that he's sitting next to Rachel when Aural Intensity starts to sing about Jesus. They exchange a look and a roll of the eyes that, Puck thinks, probably only the two Jewish kids can really get.

Puck's not sure why watching Kurt in his ugly uniform is affecting him so much. A glance out of the corner of his eyes, though, shows that all of them are a little more subdued. Yeah, Kurt's the one that had to leave, but they've all had to deal with one of them being missing, and then the preppyland school goes and gives Kurt a solo? Fuck. Not that Kurt could've, would've stayed even if Schue'd promised him a solo in every competition until graduation (though that kind of offer would no doubt be tempting, and Puck's pretty sure Rachel would take it, were it offered her, even if it involved daily waterboarding in compensation). The expression on Kurt's face is sort of heartbreaking, though, a little too pale, smile tentative, even though he's clearly happy at the same time. Puck scowls. What the hell is that place doing to their friend?

"Raise Your Glass" is fun, an audience pleaser, and Puck joins along when everyone stands and dances, but as they finish, he leans towards Rachel.

"Holy crap, they're good." Rachel doesn't stop clapping, but her head dips a little in acknowledgement. Puck clenches one fist, fingernails biting into his palm. Sure, they'd try to be happy for Kurt if his group won, but it seems like the better option would be New Directions winning and somehow getting Kurt back at McKinley where he belongs.

Right. Like Karofsky's going to just drop dead or something.

Rachel's song is good, really good, and Puck's grudgingly impressed. Then it's time to walk out on stage, and he takes a deep breath. The chords are so familiar, and his fingers twitch a little. The lyrics blend perfectly with the music, though, and in the stillness after the first verse, a loud whoop echoes from the audience. They're grinning, because of the song, but Puck's pretty sure at least part of it is because of the slender boy in the audience, yelling for them on his feet.

After the first repetition of the chorus, it's a little easier for Puck to just get into the lyrics and move, the impulse to strum the chords dissipating. The song is fun, the message is fun, and when they toss the confetti out of the cups, it occurs to Puck that he's not thrown a slushie at anyone in months, over a year.

His grins gets just a little wider as the audience cheers.

When they get back onstage for the results, Puck finds himself near the front of the stage and on the edge of their group, but that's okay with him. If they win, everyone's going to clump together, and if they don't, well. He's gonna be fine with escaping as quickly as possible.

They _do_ win, though, and in those first few seconds, all that flies through his mind is _my song, mine!_, though he knows that's not the only reason they won. Still. Something he wrote helped them win, and he grabs Rachel and Mr. Schue in an awkward three-person hug.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Puck wakes up early and pulls on a clean shirt and the black pants he wore for the competition, then slides his wallet and the battered Starbucks application into his pocket. He stops in the kitchen to drink some orange juice, startling his mom, who's reading the Sunday paper.<p>

"You're up early, Noah."

Puck shrugs. "Couldn't sleep. Guess I'm still keyed up from yesterday." He puts his glass in the sink and turns back to his mom. "I thought I'd walk down to Starbucks. You want some coffee?"

"Coffee would be great, Noah, thank you." She presses two dollars into his hand and Puck doesn't argue, just stumbles out the door into the bright sunlight. The store's busy when he arrives, and he gives his order to a tiny young guy working the register. The older lady is making the drinks, though, and when she sees him, she smiles.

"Given any more thought to it?" she asks.

"Yeah," Puck nods, and pulls the folded paper out of his pocket, smoothing the worst of the creases under his hand before setting it down on the counter and sliding it towards her. "I'll take it, if it's still available."

"Be here tomorrow at 4 in the afternoon," she replies, sliding the paper into her own pocket. "Bring your social security card and your driver's license and we'll take care of all that, then get you started."

Puck smiles and picks up his drinks. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. See you tomorrow, Noah Puckerman."

Puck makes sure his clothes are at least unwrinkled and clean before heading to school. Yeah, he could stop by home and change, but his life will be easier if he doesn't have to. He has last period free, so he shuffles down the hall to Ms. Pillsbury's office.

"Hello, Noah, how can I help you?"

"Um, I was just wondering if there was a form or something I could fill out, so I can leave campus last period, even though I'm not a senior?" He runs his hand over his mohawk absently. "I, uh, got a job, and I'm not sure what hours I'll be working yet, but…" He trails off, staring at the floor.

"Oh, certainly." She smiles pleasantly at him. "Come in, I'll just find that for you. Your employer will have to fill out a short section and then you just bring it back to me and I'll file it for you. Where are you going to be working?"

"Starbucks," Puck replies with a shrug. "Apparently I was the only honest teenager to walk in the door that day or something."

Ms. Pillsbury shakes her head but doesn't say anything else. "Well. So here is the form." She places it in front of him. "I'll just go ahead and sign my part here," she scratches her signature, then turns it back towards Puck, "and you'll fill out this, and have your manager or supervisor fill out these four lines." She hands him the form with a smile and he folds it, placing it in his pocket with his wallet.

"Thanks, Ms. P."

"It's what I'm here for." She pauses. "Are you ready for the test on Saturday?"

Puck nods. "Yeah, I mean, I guess so." He shrugs. "The math seems pretty easy but I don't know about the writing and reading sections as much."

"I have a good feeling about this for you, Noah," she smiles encouragingly. "Don't forget to take your calculator and a snack, and get some good sleep Friday night, okay?"

"Okay." Puck nods again. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome, Noah."

Puck leaves as soon as school lets out, thinking it's better to be early on the first day. Plus, he's not sure exactly how long it will take him to walk there.

He could've asked to borrow his mom's car. It's what he did a lot sophomore year, dropping his mom and sister both off and then keeping the car all day long, returning to pick up his sister and sometimes letting his mom walk home. It's what he did at the beginning of junior year, too, until the ATM incident, and while he's asked to borrow the car occasionally since then, and his mom's never said anything, he just feels weird asking for it on a school day. He's pretty much resigned himself to getting rides until after graduation. He doesn't think much about after graduation, yet, though with things like SATs and jobs, he knows he can't put it off for too much longer. Probably not more than a few months, if he's lucky.

He texts his mom to let her know he's going to be working on "a project" and he's sorry to miss family dinner night, et cetera.

It takes 25 minutes to walk to the Starbucks, passing right by the apartment on the way, and he does sort of grimace, because really. It takes maybe four minutes to get from his house to the Starbucks in the car. Still, it's only March, and he's not too sweaty or anything when he pushes the door open at a quarter till.

"There you are," the manager greets him with a smile. She hands him a stack of paperwork and a pen. "Go ahead and start filling these out, and then we'll talk scheduling and stuff."

The paperwork is pretty basic, and it doesn't take long for Puck to complete it. He waits a few more moments before she comes over with a clipboard.

"All finished?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Great." She scoops it up and shoves it under the top sheets on the clipboard. "Now, you're still in high school?"

"Yes, ma'am. A junior."

"So, I like to make sure all my employees can open and close, both. Can you work Saturdays or Sundays?"

Puck nods. "Yeah, I mean, like, I have the SAT this Saturday, and. Oh. I've got a four day long school trip in May that falls over a weekend. But generally, yeah."

"Okay. What I'm going to do is put you down for Saturday mornings, 6 to 2:30. That gives you eight of the twenty hours you need to qualify for benefits, which, I guess you don't need insurance, but you might like the discounts and stuff." She smiles and Puck nods, a small smile on his face. "If you've got something going on on a Saturday, we'll work to switch you to Sunday morning."

"Okay, sounds good," Puck nods.

"Now, are there any days you can't work after school?"

"Thursday. And probably Tuesday, to be safe."

"Okay. What time can you get here?"

Puck pulls out the form from Ms. Pillsbury and slides it across the table. "I have last period free, so I can be here by 3:00. Two forty-five if I walk really fast and no one stops me on the way out the door."

"Three is fine," she assures him. "So, Monday and Wednesday okay? You can work 3 until close, which is 9, and that's twenty hours for the week."

Puck shrugs. "Okay." He'll have to miss family dinner night until summer, but he thinks that he can make it work out. His mom will probably be okay with it.

"When summer comes, we'll see about increasing your hours, if you want. My college kids will be off doing other things."

"Cool."

"Base pay is $8 an hour, plus you get a portion of the tips. Realistically, though, you're looking at about $140 a week, take-home."

"That much?" Puck's eyes bug out a little.

She laughs gently. "What are you spending a week right now?"

"Ten bucks from my mom," he admits grudgingly.

"You're going to feel rich." She claps him on the shoulder companionably. "Let me take you behind the counter and start showing you the ropes."

Puck spends the next two hours learning about the different drinks, and then he's sent home with a page about uniforms and what to wear, along with a packet on how to mix different drinks and how to mark the cups. He shoves it all into his backpack and wonders how long he can keep the job a secret from his mom. He's desperately afraid that something will go wrong, and somehow lying to her seems easier than even the possibility of disappointing her.

When he gets home, Hannah and his mom are only halfway through dinner, so he sits down and joins them, giving them vague answers about the project he's working on. "It's, uh, for history. We have a end of the year project for chemistry, too, so yeah. Gonna be busy, with Nationals coming up, too."

That should work for a few weeks anyway.

"Oh, they do keep you busy as a junior, don't they? SAT on Saturday, right?"

"Yeah," Puck nods, then takes another bite. "That'll take all morning so."

"No temple," Rina nods. "I assumed so. You aren't exactly a frequent attender."

Puck wants to roll his eyes, but doesn't. Temple's not exactly his scene but he doesn't have a huge problem with it other than the fact that it's on Saturday, and usually there are lots of other things on Saturdays, like tests and competitions and a chance to sleep in.

Fucking Christians, there's never anything to do on Sunday mornings. He's probably being uncharitable but he's still a little bitter about that ridiculous song Aural Intensity sang on Saturday. He meant to ask Rachel if that was legal, since she's got the whole ACLU spiel down.

The week passes in a flash of celebrations (for winning Regionals), training (for his new job), and studying (for the SAT). He makes himself turn down every invitation he receives for Friday night, which is only two invitations, because he's a member of a Regionals-winning glee club, and one of those invitations is from Finn to come over and hang out. Puck has to laugh when Finn explains that Kurt's taking the SAT the next day and bailed on some plan Burt had made for the three of them.

And, sure enough, Kurt's there at McKinley when Puck walks up early Saturday morning. It's the first time Puck's seen Kurt since he apologized over the phone, because it's not like they spoke at Regionals or anything.

"Morning," Puck nods and stands beside him as they wait.

"Good morning, Puck," Kurt replies, not looking up from his phone. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Not really sure why I am," Puck admits, "but Ms. Pillsbury seemed to think it was a good idea, and then somehow my mom got involved, and well." He shrugs, as if to say 'here I am.'

"Well, I for one applaud you," Kurt finally looks up after hitting send on his text message. "Scone?" He holds out a paper bag filled with mini scones.

"Sure, thanks." Puck selects one and takes a bite. "How's, uh." Puck screws his face up for a minute. "Galton? No."

"Dalton?" Kurt looks like he wants to laugh, but doesn't. "Relatively monochromatic."

They walk in through the doors, then, and Kurt sighs a little. "Ah, McKinley."

"You miss it?"

"Strangely? Yes. Every terrifying minute of it, believe it or not." Kurt smiles sardonically.

"Sucks," Puck offers, unable to really offer much else, and Kurt just nods.

The check-in process is annoying and Puck is escorted to one of the math classrooms for his test. It goes about how he expects: the math is easy and he finishes with time to spare; the critical reading is definitely harder, and he doesn't finish all the questions; the writing is about the same as the reading, except he manages to finish with about 20 seconds before time is called.

They're finally released after twelve-thirty, and he ends up back next to Kurt as they're walking out the door. "Good to see you, dude."

"Thanks," Kurt said. "Likewise." He stops and frowns at his phone, then shakes his keys out. "Hopefully I'll see you around." Puck nods and starts to walk away. "Wait. You need a ride?"

"Nah, I mean, it's not far, don't–"

"It's no trouble," Kurt says with a shrug. "I'm headed towards the mall anyway, and I'm pretty sure you're closer than that."

"Yeah." Puck shrugs and turns around, walking towards Kurt's Navigator. "The apartment building on High Street."

"Oh, no, that's not far at all," Kurt nods, unlocking his doors and climbing in.

Kurt flips on the radio as soon as he turns the key, and Puck sits in silence for the four block ride. "Thanks. Really."

"You're welcome. Bye."

"See ya."

Puck crashes as soon as he gets home, ignoring his mother's questions about how the test was and how he thinks he did. He just shrugs and takes a nap, waking up in time for dinner and then spending the rest of the night goofing off online and with video games.


	3. Chapter 3

Part I, chapter iii

* * *

><p>Puck barely keeps his face straight on Monday morning during glee club. Mr. Schuester has his numbers right, yeah, in that they <em>need<em> $5000 and that means they have to _sell_ 20,000 pieces of taffy (which so isn't going to happen), but the equation on the board is all kinds of messed up.

Then he goes and says that he understands three of the four on the academic decathlon team. Puck can't resist. He puts on his best dumb expression and asks if it's because two of them are Asian and Artie wears glasses.

He's a little chagrined when Lauren admits that she doesn't remember everyone's names, but then, he doesn't have that much room to talk, because he still was calling Mercedes "Aretha" around the same time last year, so whatever.

Puck leaves school as soon as the second to last period is over, a black shirt and appropriately colored pants stowed in his backpack. The twenty-five minutes passes pretty quickly, and he's glad it's not too cold. He changes when he arrives and then goes behind the counter with a deep breath.

After an hour or two, he realizes that his first impression was correct. He's pretty good at mixing stuff. He can't remember names all that well, but he can memorize the motions that go with specific names, and there are tags on the pastry case to help figure out what someone wants from there. He doesn't have to know the difference between the different scones; he just has to read the label for the correct scone. Score.

He remembers to text his mom around 5:30 that he's working on his project again, but that tonight he won't be home until about 9:30. She responds a few moments later with a frowning emoticon, but adds that she understands schoolwork is important, too. If it were any night but Monday, it wouldn't be a big deal, and he makes a note to tell her he's hanging out with some friends on Wednesday, just in case.

Around 7, he takes a break, sipping a tall coffee and mentally reviewing how to make a latte. He sends Lauren a text message, asking if she wants to go out Friday night. He gets his first paycheck on Friday and has every intention of cashing it immediately, even if he doesn't intend to spend it all. Lauren sends back a wink and a maybe. Puck sighs and puts his phone away, finishing his coffee before going back to work.

After the doors close at nine, he watches his manager finish the closing duties, and they walk out the door at 9:15. "Need a ride?"

"Nah, I need the exercise," Puck says, shouldering his backpack. "I don't do much when it's not football season."

"What position?"

"Running back."

She nods. "See you Wednesday."

"See you."

Puck jogs slowly through the darkened streets, and it takes just over 10 minutes to get home, which is definitely better than walking. His mom is already in her bedroom when he arrives home, and he changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt before going to knock on her door.

"Mom, I'm home."

"Come in, Noah."

Puck opens the door and steps inside. "Sorry I missed dinner."

"I know you are," she smiles. "You'll be here for dinner tomorrow? Hannah misses you when you're not around."

"Yeah, I'll be here," Puck nods. "Need me to start dinner before you get home?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful." His mom's smile gets wider. "Maybe grill some of the chicken in the freezer, we can have it with rice and a vegetable or two."

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Do you have a lot of homework? A lot of other homework that is."

"Not too much. Some Spanish."

"I know you'll be glad to drop that next year."

"Definitely," Puck agrees. "One language and a smattering of Hebrew is more than enough for this brain." He bends over and kisses his mom's forehead. "Night, Mom."

"Good night, son. Go peek in on Hannah just in case she's still awake, okay?"

"Okay." Puck pulls the door closed behind him and steps across the hall to Hannah's bedroom. He pushes the door open just slightly, but her head springs off the pillow.

"Noah!"

"You should be asleep, squirt."

She rolls her eyes, and Puck just shakes his head as he crosses to her bed, sitting on the edge. "I was waiting for you."

"I can see that. How was school?"

"Boring. We had a substitute."

"Too bad. Our substitute is kind of interesting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's dating Mr. Schuester."

"Eww. Boys have cooties."

"Keep thinking that, Hannah." Puck stands and drops a kiss on the top of her head. "Good night."

"Good night, Noah!"

* * *

><p>The next day in glee club, Schue announces his idea for the benefit concert, which everyone more or less endorses. Puck's headed out the door to lunch when Schue stops him. "Puck, wait a second."<p>

Puck raises an eyebrow inquiringly. "What's up, Mr. Schue?"

"I'd like for you to be in charge of ticket sales."

"Yeah?" Puck, if pressed, would have to admit to some surprise. "Okay."

"Great!" Schue claps Puck on the back. "Come by my office after school and I'll give you the lockbox and the tickets should be printed by then."

"Okay," Puck nods. "Sure thing. See you then."

Puck continues out of the room and wrinkles his forehead. Huh. It didn't sound like he was second or third or last choice, either, which honestly? That's usually his first thought. To _not_ be the last choice is kind of novel, to actually be someone's first choice even more novel. He just hopes he won't get blamed with ticket sales go poorly, because he's not real confident that this thing is going to be playing to a sell-out crowd.

When Sunshine shows up, he's more than happy for her to perform. Six hundred Twitter followers buying tickets? Amazing, especially since he's sold only four so far, all to creepy Mr. Ryerson. And, well, Rachel _did_ send Sunshine to the crack house. Sure, everyone makes mistakes, so he probably shouldn't bring it up, but it's kind of hard to forget.

Puck jumps to his feet, clapping and smiling, when Sunshine finishes. Sure, she is a great singer, but the more accolades they give her, the more likely it is that she'll come. With her Twitter followers. Rachel doesn't seem to understand how this works, and he finally has to spell it out for everyone in the choir room. Everyone acquiesces pretty quickly after that.

The rest of the week passes in a blur of school, trying to sell tickets, learning the ropes at Starbucks, and driving around in various people's cars to find a Pomeranian puppy.

He likes Lauren, really he does, but he does not appreciate her encouraging Mercedes in her delusions. Not to mention, he's not sure why _he_ got volunteered to find a puppy. Well, it wasn't that he volunteered. He was voluntold, and there was a suggestion that he might actually get to take Lauren out on Friday night after all if (and only if) he finds said puppy.

He drives out past the mall to two shelters. Down to Wapakoneta. Over to Bellafontaine, and then back over to Sidney. It's the shelter in Celina that finally yields a Pomeranian mix, and he leaves the "mix" part off the description when he returns with her. When Lauren talks to the puppy about cute "he" is, he doesn't correct that misperception, either. He's just relieved to have finished before the time that Lauren said they'd go out.

They do go out, and Puck's pretty proud of himself for having the money to pay for dinner, and when Lauren suggests a movie, he pays for that too. Lauren spends half the movie texting Mercedes, though, and at the end of the night, she lets him give her a single kiss–on the cheek.

Puck wonders if it's possible for progress to unravel and go backwards. No matter what he does with Lauren, it feels like one step forward, two steps back. He's tried mixing it up; it's not like he suggests the same things all the time. He just doesn't know if she's really into him at all, in the end, and yeah, the wooing is fun, but he's starting to wonder if she'll ever make _any_ of it easy.

Actually admitting that yes, she would like to spend time with him outside of school or glee club, would be a nice start, Puck thinks.

On the night of the benefit, when Puck sells exactly two more tickets (to Kurt and his boyfriend, and Kurt looks a little downtrodden to be actually dating, Puck thinks) and he finds out that Sunshine's pulled out of the benefit, he can't help expressing his exasperation. The point of the show was to make money, and they haven't done that. They haven't made hardly any money at all!

Sure, the show must go on, and sure, there may be hostile crowds at Nationals, but by the time they go sit in the auditorium to watch Mercedes sing, Puck's almost had it. The night's a bust, even if Mercedes does nail the song, and even if Lauren does at least sit next to him.

At least, the night's a bust until creepy Mr. Ryerson actually writes them a check, which is surprisingly decent of him.

Mercedes ends up inviting all of them to her place to watch their Brainiacs compete in Detroit, and the eight of them cheer as the other four win their competition.

* * *

><p>Puck's tired by midday on Monday. He worked Saturday morning and then got a call on Sunday morning, asking if he could please work closing shift, one of the others called in sick? He didn't mind, more hours meant more money, but he had planned to catch up on homework Sunday afternoon, which meant instead he was catching up until after midnight. Plus, he was kind of tired from all the dancing after school the week before. Mr. Schue hadn't let the rest of them stop practicing even after Finn took Rachel to the doctor.<p>

And what exactly is up with those two, anyway? Quinn and Finn are back together, but Finn still looks at Rachel like he kind of wants to be with her. Puck almost wishes they'd both tell Finn no, but like that's going to happen.

Schue comes in with his new idea about acceptance, and Puck is not exactly thrilled. Why does Schuester always bring in Lady Gaga? The song isn't bad, but Puck remembers those costumes. Of course, the rest of them did KISS, and that was some awesome make-up, but still.

Ms. Pillsbury stands up to reveal her t-shirt, and it doesn't take a genius to see Schue is genuinely surprised and a little disappointed. Whatever. Puck rolls his eyes and spends the rest of the time wondering about what everyone's shirts are going to say.

Artie's will be something about his glasses or his wheelchair. Mercedes, something that relates to being black, and Tina, something that relates to being Asian. It does not take a genius to figure these things out.

Personally, Puck thinks Sam should put something about his mouth on his shirt, since that's such a sore subject, but he probably won't.

Thinking about what everyone else might put gives Puck less time to think about what he should put on his _own_ shirt, which suits him just fine. In fact, he manages to leave the choir room without thinking about it at all, and when it starts to invade his brain, he scans the hall and finds a distraction in the form of Lauren, looking at the Prom Royalty display.

He's surprised to learn about her pageant past, and then before he can really think through his words, he's offering that they run for Prom King & Queen.

_What. Was. I. Thinking?_

His girl looks damn happy about it, though, so he stuffs down his immediate misgivings in favor of nodding supportively as Lauren discusses her plans for posters which, thankfully, seem to involve only her.

He's down with that. Why did he open his mouth again?

* * *

><p>His second full Monday goes smoothly, and the manager compliments his work ethic as he finishes storing the pastries for the night. "You're a good, hard worker. Keep this up!"<p>

"Uh, yeah, okay. Thanks." Puck smiles, a little surprised. Sometimes he doesn't recognize the person he's become in the last few months. Is he still Puck? Or was it the other guy that wasn't Puck? Are they both Puck? He's giving himself a headache and counts himself lucky that his mom and Hannah are both asleep by the time he finishes his slow walk home.

He steps into the shower, eager to get the remains of the coffee grounds that spilled on his head out of his mohawk. Unfortunately, he starts thinking about his day, and how he thinks getting a nose job is stupid, and he's pretty sure his mom would have a really good Jewish mother rant for Rachel. Which, as far as Puck can tell, is really the only thing Rachel is missing in her motherless life.

Fuck. Thinking about Rachel being motherless just makes him think about Shelby, and it's a short jump to Beth from there. Fuck. His shirt should probably say _Daughterless Father_ but he knows better than to try that. No one is supposed to talk about Beth, that's the unofficial rule. _No one_ mentions her, least of all fucking Quinn.

He wasn't lying when he said he loved her. How could he not have loved her, after meeting Beth? But that more than faded by the second week of junior year, and most of the time, he thinks he would hate her, if he could summon up energy to feel anything but sheer indifference towards one Quinn Fabray.

Puck gets out off the shower, scowling, and decides he needs a break from his brain.

_Dude you got plans tomorrow?_

_Nah. Wanta come over after skull_

_Ys thx_

Puck tosses his phone onto his desk and feels a little better; at least he can crash at the Hudmel house for a little while after school and watch movies or play video games or whatever.

Glee club the next day is a bit of a clusterfuck, Puck thinks. First is Finn and Mike's performance, which is actually funny and well-done, but then Finn has to go and ask for reassurance that he's getting better at dancing, which falls flat because apparently everyone in the club suddenly sucks at white lies. What is up with that, Puck wonders?

Then Rachel gets up and starts talking about her nose job plans, and Puck does his best impression of a Jewish mother, except he's not a woman and he does make out with a lot of the girls at temple, so it probably doesn't have nearly the same impact. AND Lauren elbows him after attention has turned back away from him. Puck rolls his eyes. Great!

Puck leans against the wall across from Finn's last period class and walks out the door with him. "Good job today, dude," Puck says.

"Yeah? Thanks." Finn brightens a little, and Puck thinks it's pretty bad if he's the first person beside Schue to compliment him. Puck's not supposed to be the one that notices shit and makes people feel better. That's just weird.

When they get to Finn's house, they settle on Motorsport 3 and start playing. Kurt blows in after thirty minutes or so and pauses to say hello, then his eyes light up. "Motorsport 3?"

"Yeah."

"Ooh, can I?" he gestures to Finn, who rolls his eyes but hands over the controller.

"Thanks."

The three of them alternate playing after that, and eventually Finn brings up Rachel.

"I can't believe Rachel's going to do it."

"Do what?" Kurt raises his eyebrows.

"Get a nose job."

"WHAT?" Kurt screeches. There's no other word for it. "Rachel _Berry_?"

"I know," Puck nods. "I can't believe her dads are letting her. Clearly they are falling down on the Jewish guilt."

Finn and Kurt laugh. "I can't imagine what she's thinking," Kurt muses as Finn takes over the controls. "Did no one mention Barbra?"

The boys just look at him blankly, and he sighs. "All right. Clearly we need a plan. Finn, get everyone to the mall on Friday after school." He hides a little smile, and Puck files that away for further consideration.

Puck shrugs. "What're you thinking?"

Kurt proceeds to explain his plan, even after Finn wanders into the kitchen for snacks. Puck adds a few ideas and between the two of them, they come up with an even better plan.

"Awesome," Puck finally concludes, holding his fist out for Kurt to bump, which Kurt does with a smile.

Puck gets ready to leave after that, and he nods at Kurt. "See you Friday, then?"

Kurt smirks. "If not before," he finally concedes with a nod.

"Ookay. Later."

"Bye."

Kurt's odd behavior makes a little more sense the next day when Karofsky gets up in front of them and proceeds to apologize and say that he's looking to apologize to Kurt directly. Puck knows, they all know, that Kurt's been wanting a reason to come back pretty much ever since he left. When he showed up at Rachel's party, that was more confirmation. Who would voluntarily go to a party at Rachel Berry's if they could have gone to a rich kid party? Not even Kurt Hummel, Puck thinks, except there were people at Rachel's he wanted to see more.

Not that Puck can honestly blame him, but he's not going to tell anyone that.

And yeah, the idea of Santana and Karofsky is just repulsive on so many levels. Puck hopes they aren't going to make Kurt deal with that sight, though it'd be kind of fair, since the rest of them are having to do so.

Puck heads to work after school, making himself focus on what his t-shirt's going to read on Monday, as much as he doesn't want to think about it, but he can't seem to figure out anything pithy that's not stupid or way too honest.

Puck's not really down with being too honest.

He texts his mom that he's hanging at Finn's again, so she won't worry, and decides he'll come clean with her next week, after his third paycheck. He's just cashing them until he turns 18 and can open up a bank account.

* * *

><p>His phone shakes in the middle of third period, and he sees Santana, Finn, and Artie all jump at the same time. Mass text, then, and it just says <em>Meet in the courtyard at noon<em>, from Mercedes. Puck shrugs. Sure. Whatever.

He saunters out to the courtyard just in time for Mercedes to make a short speech and then Kurt appears at the top of the stairs, in actual clothes and not that stupid uniform, and they're all cheering. Yeah, Lauren's all kinds of awesome, but Santana was right. They need Kurt, too, and everything seems to slot into place, the thirteen of them standing there.

After the Galton-Dalton-whatever people come and sing to Kurt, he has to go find Rachel about the mall the next day, and she reluctantly agrees. He spends so much time trying to find her and then convince her that they're both nearly late for glee club, which would have been a damn shame, because Kurt's singing for the first time in how many months and everyone else is grinning. Finn and Quinn are cuddling, and Brittany and Artie are too, but Lauren just raises an eyebrow when he tries to lean his head on her shoulder, and he sighs. The performance is magnificent, though, they all have to acknowledge that, grinning and clapping.

As soon as the meeting is over, Lauren turns to Puck. "You can pick locks?"

"Yeah…"

"I need dirt on my competition. Meet me here after dark. Dress in black, wear gloves, and bring a flashlight. Plus whatever you need to pick locks."

"Ookay," Puck shrugs. "Sure." He's kinda always wondered what his own permanent record looks like, so maybe he can get in and find it. Maybe even alter it a little. He was a stupid little shit when he was a freshman, especially. Does it really have to follow him around forever?

So Puck spends his Thursday night breaking and entering, against all rational judgment, because if they were to get caught, it'd be back to juvie, and didn't he want to avoid that. Fuck. He's being really stupid, even if this is for Lauren. He goes straight for his permanent record and removes as much as he can without it looking too suspicious, then goes back to waiting on Lauren impatiently.

_The stupid things I do for my dick!_

After work on Saturday, Puck changes his shirt and walks for forty-five minutes to meet Lauren at the movie theatre. He thinks _Sucker Punch_ will be kind of interesting, and the fact that it's about girls appeals to Lauren. They're across the street getting ice cream when he asks her about what she's doing with the information about Quinn..

"You're only thinking it's bad because it's Quinn."

Puck snorts. "As if. More like, I would definitely have a problem with it if it _weren't_ Quinn, but I guess."

"Oh?"

"It's just that she _pretends_," Puck hisses out, the venom in his voice surprising even him. "She wants to pretend like it's just stretch marks and ab muscles and popularity. Like she doesn't exist, like she was just a really weird tumor that disappeared, like she doesn't _miss_ her." Puck catches himself and swallows, scowling. "So, yeah, maybe a little of me thinks that she has it coming to her."

When Puck gets home just before dinner, he sits down to scribble out a song, and when he goes back into the bedroom after eating with his mom and his sister, he knows what's going on his shirt for Monday.

* * *

><p>By Wednesday, Puck's feeling kind of wretched about lying to his mom so much, but it's only two more days until he gets his third paycheck, and while he doesn't think the job is going to disappear any more (for some reason, everyone that works there actually likes Puck and thinks he's doing great), he would love to be able to hand her the $30 she's given him over the last three weeks plus another $40 or so.<p>

Mr. Schue announces that they can each come up with a song of their own choosing for the next week, and Puck has no clue what to choose. Finn invites him over on Thursday for more games, and Kurt joins them for thirty minutes or so before disappearing. "Probably to Skype with Blaine or something," Finn shrugs casually, and Puck nods. It kinda sucks for Kurt that he has to find a boyfriend that lives an hour away and doesn't go to their school. Even if Puck doesn't think that much of him. It doesn't seem like any of the rest of glee club does, really, though no one's really talking about it.

Puck leaves school during last period on Friday, headed towards Starbucks to pick up his check. He takes it to the bank and cashes it, wishing it was the end of June already, so he could just open up an account. He says something to that affect to the teller, who hurries to assure him that no, he can open an account without a parent's signature already, as long as he sets up a direct deposit to the account within two weeks.

Puck blinks and then nods, and is shunted off towards someone who will help him open an account. Forty-five minutes later, Puck emerges from the bank with a stack of temporary checks (who still uses those?), a temporary debit card (much more interesting), and a little bit of cash. He jogs home, retrieves most of the rest of his stash of cash, and deposits it as well. He keeps out $40 for his mom and $30 for the week ahead, then stashes the reminder in his account.

It hits him, looking at the balance, that he can afford to buy a new phone and pay for a data plan. _Next week_ he decides.

He heads home and decides to cook something for dinner before his mom gets home with Hannah. He's supposed to go see a movie with the rest of the guys from glee club, but not until after dinner. Probably because Finn and Kurt are held hostage by the Friday night Hudmel family dinner, but Puck's looking forward to seeing _Source Code_ and not having to mooch someone else's popcorn.

"Noah?"

"In the kitchen, Mom."

"Oh, there you are." She pokes her head around the corner and smiles tiredly. "Soup?"

"And grilled cheese," Puck nods, freeing the second of three sandwiches. "Send Hannah in here and we'll set the table."

"Okay." She disappears, and Hannah flounces up a few moments later.

"Mom said I had to help set the table."

"Yes, you do," Puck raises his eyebrows, then hands her three plates. "Aren't you too young to be so sassy?"

"Nope!"

Puck shakes his head and finishes cooking as his mom sits down at the table. He lets her mostly finish eating before he pulls out his wallet and hands over the stack of folded $10 bills, along with the two $20 bills.

"Noah? What's this?"

"Uh, the thirty bucks you've given over the last three weeks. Plus forty more just, well. Because." Puck shrugs.

"Where did you get this?"

"I got a job."

"That's where you've been?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to say anything until, you know." Puck can't put it into words, but she seems to understand and nods.

"Well. Thank you." She doesn't protest the additional money, which makes Puck heave a sigh of relief. There will be other times, when she realizes that he doesn't intend for it to be a one time thing, when she'll protest and argue, but at least this first time, she won't. "Where are you working?"

"Starbucks."

"Really?" She sounds intrigued. "I've heard they're a good company to work for."

"Yeah, the manager said I can probably transfer to a different store when I leave for college."

Puck's glad he just put a spoonful of soup in his mouth after finishing the statement, because otherwise, he would have let his jaw drop. Where did that come from? Sure, his manager _had_ said that, but.

He didn't realize was planning to leave for college.

Obviously, he was. Is.

"Of course," his mom manages to reply smoothly, but Puck can hear the note of surprise in her voice. Hell, if he were her, he'd be surprised, too. Really surprised. "Do you have plans tonight?"

"Some of us are going to see a movie. I'll probably be leaving in an hour or so."

"All right. Be back by midnight, please?"

"Okay, okay. I have to work in the morning, anyway."

"Oh? That's where you've been?"

Puck nods. "Saturdays six to two-thirty, Mondays and Wednesdays three until close. Which is nine, but that means leaving around nine-fifteen or so. It's twenty hours a week."

"Does that mean you get free coffee?" Hannah pipes up.

"Actually, yeah," Puck grins. "One drink a shift. And a pound a week to bring home."

"Oh?" His mom tries to sound disinterested, but Puck knows she definitely is interested.

"Yep. I'll bring some home tomorrow, okay?" Puck raises one eyebrow, amused.

His mom just smiles and nods her thanks.

Puck's a little surprised when it's Kurt that pulls up in front of the apartment building, until he realizes that Mike and Sam are already in the back, and Finn's sitting up front, controlling the radio. "Artie's meeting us there," Finn explains over his shoulder. "But it just didn't make much sense to have Sam or I drive. And Sam was already over at Mike's house."

Puck nods and settles down into one of the seats in the back. "Cool."

The ride to the movie theatre is short, and Puck pays for his ticket and then stands in line for some popcorn and a drink. He doesn't say anything to any of them, but damn. It feels really good to have his own money. It feels good to work, even, and to know he's getting paid for what he's accomplishing.

Go figure.

Puck ends up between Kurt on one side and Sam on the other, and about twenty minutes into the movie he notices that he's become the one being mooched off of. He remembers Kurt only buying a drink, but not why he didn't buy anything else. Puck just shrugs. He likes to get the really big buckets because they're the best deal, anyway, and he never finishes them. Usually he takes the leftovers home to Hannah, but it tastes better fresh, so it makes sense for Kurt to eat it if he wants it.

Puck isn't consciously aware that he starts timing when he'll reach for a bite to coincide with when Kurt reaches in, and he doesn't quite register that he's deliberately letting his hand brush against Kurt's. It's so little and subtle that he truly doesn't make a note of it.

When the movie is over, Finn suggests they go down and across the street to grab a milkshake, which they do, along a huge order of fries to share. They sit there, laughing and joking, until nearly eleven, and Puck's irrationally pleased that they all get along so well, that no one, including himself or Finn, unfortunately, has an issue with Kurt being there and being one of the guys. He's also irrationally pleased at how happy he himself feels to have friends, friends that don't put the same weight of expectations on him that he's always felt before.

When Kurt drops him off first, on the way to Mike's, where Sam left his car, Puck's in a great mood, despite knowing he's going to get way too little sleep. He doesn't check his text messages or voicemail before letting himself fall asleep, alarm set for the next morning.


End file.
